My sister so often longed to catch sight of the oily satiny sheen of the river's light in unsuspected places that she would drag me off to note her discoveries.

She wanted all the varying sights of the Spree, which showed itself at the ends of alleys, or in courtyards or behind houses, suddenly to appear to her, so that she might have the right to first name her discovery." He was silent awhile, deep in memories of the past.

Then he said: "If I have lingered over these childish reminiscences it is because I have not my Blondchen any longer.

On one of our wandering excursions we were caught in a heavy shower of rain, and became wet through.

My sister was taken ill with rheumatism, and eight days afterward we buried her in the churchyard." The mother soon followed Blondchen.